Morning
by JuliaJekyll
Summary: It was wonderful to wake up next to the person that you loved. Pure established Johnlock fluff.


K, so I'm quite new to this fandom, and this is my first Sherlock fanfiction, so I really hope I got the characters down well enough! Feedback would absolutely make my day!

Sherlock trailed his lips cautiously over John's skin, starting at his neck just under his hairline and moving slowly down to his spine. The flesh was soft and tasted like morning, for morning it was, and John was lying on his stomach in bed beside Sherlock, shirtless and still asleep, but probably not for long.

It was incredibly peaceful, sleeping beside John. After months of confusion and uncertainty regarding the nature of his feelings for the other man, Sherlock had finally reached a place where he could lie in bed with him and feel at ease in the knowledge that he wanted to be with John, and that John wanted to be with him

They had not yet taken their relationship beyond kisses and touches, because neither of them had ever been in a romantic relationship with another man before, and they'd agreed that they ought to take it slow. This was the first night on which they had shared a bed, on which Sherlock had fallen asleep to the gentle rhythm of John's heartbeat, his hand on John's stomach and John's hand tangled in his hair.

As Sherlock had expected, John began to stir as Sherlock's lips reached his ribs. He gave a slight tired moan at having been woken, but it didn't sound like too much of an objection to Sherlock, so he kept moving his lips, interested to know how John would react.

"Sherlock," said John, his voice rough with sleep, "what're you doing?"

Sherlock couldn't help a small smile. "Observing," he said, his voice muffled against John's skin.

"Observing what, exactly?" John asked.

"Why, you, John. Obviously." Sherlock removed his mouth from John's body and lay down beside him, facing him. John shifted onto his side so that he could look into his partner's eyes, and Sherlock felt a flash of happiness when he saw the affection in the other man's expression.

"Well," said John, "what did you deduce from that?"

"That you've been spending time outside without a shirt on lately," Sherlock replied instantly. "Your back is now the same shade as your neck, where previously your neck was darker due to rarely being covered by a shirt. Also, you have a mosquito bite on your right shoulder blade."

John groaned. "I already knew that," he said. "Bloody thing was itching like hell last night."

"Yet I didn't see you scratch."

"I endeavor not to. Makes it worse in the long run."

"Hm," said Sherlock. He studied John's face for a moment, and then gently placed his hand on his neck. Even after a few weeks of a romantic relationship, he was still a little shy about initiating kisses, but John's lips looked so soft and welcoming that Sherlock shifted forward and touched them with his own.

John made a small, contented noise as he kissed Sherlock back, his lips moving with gentle tenderness. His hand moved to Sherlock's hip, and his tongue brushed carefully over his lower lip.

Sherlock broke the kiss and looked into John's eyes again. With a small smile, he placed one hand on John's chest. "Your heart rate is elevated," he remarked, "and since kissing while laying down isn't terribly strenuous, that leads me to suspect that you quite enjoyed said kissing."

John gave a lopsided grin. "Right again, Sherlock," he said. He sighed. "You know, I could really go for a cuppa."

"I'll make it for you," said Sherlock, shifting toward the edge of the bed.

John propped himself up on his elbows and stared incredulously at his flatmate. "You're offering to make me tea? Now I've seen everything."

"Not offering," Sherlock corrected, "I'm informing you that I'm going to make you a cup of tea." He stood up. "I'll be back in a moment."

As Sherlock left the bedroom, John leaned back onto the pillows, his hands cupped leisurely behind his head. He could imagine nothing lovelier than to sit in bed with Sherlock and drink tea, especially when he didn't need to put forth any effort in order to bring said tea into existence.

While Sherlock waited fo the water in the teakettle to boil, he looked out the window at Baker Street. It was a beautiful summer morning, too early for the sun to have reached its full heat, but late enough that all the pink and purple traces of sunrise had vanished from the sky. Sherlock's usually restless mind felt uncharacteristically and pleasantly at ease, which he knew must have something to do with the fact that he had woken up next to John.

It was strange. He'd said himself that he was married to his work, and he certainly hadn't left that behind, but that morning, it wasn't losing himself in his work or even playing his violin that made him feel a sense of purpose; it was John.

Sherlock was used to being one step (or more) ahead of everyone and everything, but even he couldn't have anticipated falling in love with John Watson.

As he took the hot tea in to John, he reflected that he and his partner had yet to actually say that they loved each other. All in good time, he thought.

"Thank you," said John, as he accepted the steaming cup from Sherlock.

"You're welcome," Sherlock replied, sitting down beside him with his own cup. They sat in a companionable silence for a few moments until John spoke.

"Would you like to go for breakfast?" he asked.

"Now?"

"Well, soon."

"I'm not sure you want to stand up just now," Sherlock said, feeling himself blush slightly.

"Why ever not?" asked John.

"Well," said Sherlock, "judging by the way you seem to be taking care to keep the blanket over your lap even though the rest of your body, including your legs, are uncovered, I suspect that you are aroused and don't want me to know about it."

John's eyes widened and he made a sound that was somewhere between exasperation and embarrassment. "Bloody hell, Sherlock," he said. "I don't know why I bother trying to keep anything from you."

"Neither do I," Sherlock replied. He sipped his tea. "I'm correct, then?"

"Are you ever wrong?"

"Infrequently." Sherlock put his tea down on the bedside table and turned to John, searching his face. "May I kiss you, John?" he asked.

"Of course," John answered softly. "Always."

Sherlock shifted closer and kissed John, and John kissed back. The taste of tea clung to his lips, and Sherlock reached out to take his partner into his arms. They embraced, pulling each other steadily closer, slipping lower until they were both lying down again, each relishing the feel of the other's warmth and skin.

As it usually was, it was Sherlock who pulled away first. "I'm not ready," he said, so quietly that John barely heard him.

"Sherlock," said John gently, "there's no rush. I don't want you to feel like there is." He kissed Sherlock tenderly on the forehead. "I just want you to know that I…that I love you. I love being with you, and as long as I can do that, we can take our time with everything else."

Sherlock saw genuine love and understanding in the other man's eyes. "I love you too, John," he said. "I love you very much."

John smiled and gave Sherlock another long, gentle kiss.

It was a good morning.

**AN: **So, I hope you enjoyed it! Please do leave a review and let me know what you think! Also, I don't usually write smut, but I might be persuaded to try my hand if anyone's interested :D


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